Page 15 of To Sway a Prince (Tempting Thieves)

15

A QUIET DINNER FOR TWO

M y stomach twisted and fluttered as if I had just dropped a thousand feet. I spent the rest of the time restoring my magic and strengthening my abilities. Then, shortly before sunset, I prepared.

I hadn't really fussed much about my appearance since I'd been here. It had been enough to have clean clothes, soap, and hot water. But now…now I wanted to do something special.

I stood before the wardrobe, hand hovering over the silver handle. A memory surfaced—my mother's smile as she held the pink fabric up to my shoulders, preparing me for my first ball where I was to be presented to the kingdom. Fifteen years old. Nearing the time when I would begin assuming royal duties.

"Pink is special to the crimson fae," she'd said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "It reflects your soul, darling. Bright and warm, nurturing and soft."

Father just laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Blue suits her better—turquoise, like the rune fae. Strong and steady."

"It suits her, but pink is special," Mother said.

"I like the pink too," my older sister Sona said. "Especially the rich shade. It's like the roses in the desert."

"But blue is easier for the eyes when one is working with knotweaving," Father countered. "And it is easier to make stronger runes when using those shades in our family."

"I think green would be better," my eldest brother Loam said. "It still has the blue and works against the gold, but it's easier to hide. Especially dark green. Or black even."

"Princesses do not wear black at their presentment. This is our opportunity to tell the kingdom something particular about Astraia. Black must be reserved for the higher functions and for her demonstration of her powers when she is eighteen. These traditions matter." Mother tilted up my chin, then adjusted the fabric.

My brother Elim hooked his arm around my waist and flipped my hair out of the floral binding. He wove a quick enchantment that made my curls bounce and scrambled the colors of the flower petals together. "I think she should wear yellow so it matches her hair."

Sona rolled her eyes, scoffing at him. "We do not match our clothes to our hair. We contrast with our hair. If you must match something, match your eyes."

A knot of emotion formed in my throat. Little had I known then how soon I would wear all black and why.

Willing back the tears, I closed my eyes and focused my intention, picturing a gown of soft pink. When I opened the wardrobe, my breath caught. The dress that awaited me was exactly as I'd imagined—rose pink with flowing angel sleeves and the perfect flair and layering.

I ran my fingers along the fabric, turning it inside out to examine the seams. There, hidden from casual view, was an inner lining of turquoise and blue threads. My compromise, once upon a time, to honor both parents. The rune stitchings on the inside even formed the runic marks for family.

I hadn't worn pink since. It was far too happy a color. But now…now I wanted it. The gown fit perfectly, and even though I did not add perfume or alter my scent from anything but clean, I felt as if I was ready.

As soon as I opened the guest room door, I caught the mouthwatering scents. It was only a few doors down, and the carved door had been left ajar. The room beyond stole my breath.

A feast had been laid out on a table draped in midnight blue cloth scattered with silver stars. Platters held glistening roast duck with crisp, golden skin nestled among caramelized onions, carrots, sprouts, and potatoes. Beside it sat a steaming tureen of wild mushroom soup, its earthy aroma mingling with fresh-baked bread sliced neatly in a cloth-lined basket. Crystal goblets caught the light from floating white taper candles, and delicate pastries dusted with sugar formed a small mountain on a silver tray. Other smaller plates held honeyed figs stuffed with soft goat cheese and crushed walnuts, charred leeks drizzled with shadow truffle oil, and slivers of cold-smoked river trout wrapped in vine leaves with a moon fruit garnish. A shallow glass dish shimmered with starlight jelly with a tiny silver knife balanced over the top. The decadent scents made my mouth water and my stomach cramp with hunger.

Ramiel stood waiting at the head of the table, dressed in a tailored rich blue surcoat, embroidered with silver runes that shimmered when he moved. The formal attire surprised me—as if we'd both decided this evening warranted something special without ever discussing it. I hadn't even questioned the choice of dress, and that—that was remarkable.

I realized then we were both staring at one another, his mouth slightly open as if he had never seen anything like me.

"You look..." his voice trailed off as his gaze traveled over me. His throat bobbed.

"So do you." I kept my chin up even though heat spread through my body and likely made my cheeks match my dress.

Straightening his shoulders, he stepped forward with that quiet grace of his, pulled out a high-backed chair, then held out his hand. "Please."

My hand slid easily in his. He guided me to the seat and slid it under me.

I settled into the chair, sinking into the cushion and painfully aware of his proximity. His hand grazed my shoulder as he stepped away, that wonderful scent of frosted silver and warm cedar wrapping around me like a sensual embrace.

He took his seat across from me, still within arm's reach. "I hope you're hungry. And that the food tastes good. It has been a while since I have prepared anything even remotely like this."

"Yes, if your habits over the past few days are any indication, I suspect you mostly eat whatever you can while working. But it smells wonderful." I curled my hands in my lap. Everything had been set up with such care.

He chuckled at this, picking up a bottle of mead and pouring us each a goblet full. "Especially lately." He raised his glass. "To unexpected but delightful company. Natoumai ahme vahre. Kahdahle."

I dipped my head forward, lifting my own goblet. I recognized the word "kahdahle." It was a rune fae toast that essentially meant blessings upon you and all yours and may all the good spoken come to pass. I didn't recognize the first phrase, though I remembered seeing it inscribed on the empty jar. "Kahdahle."

The first sip of the mead sent my senses reeling with delight. It was so delicious it was all I could do to not gulp it down. "That is amazing." Closing my eyes, I savored the complex sweetness. "I know what kahdahle means. But…I don't know the other. Natoumai ahme vahre."

"Oh…" He paused as if startled I asked. Then he tilted his head, his silken hair sliding over his shoulder like a waterfall. "It's a Sentinel's saying. An acknowledgment of the blessing that one's presence holds. Please. Enjoy the food. It has been ages since I have been able to share this with anyone.

The meal was delicious, reminding me of the cuisine in the palace. Especially on the rune fae holidays. For several moments, I simply ate with relish until I reached the duck. "You marinated the duck with wine and garlic and stone leaves," I exclaimed. The rich and savory flavors exploded over my tongue with the sharp bite of the acidic leaves. I held my hand up to my mouth as I chewed the bite thoroughly, delighting in every scrap of flavor.

"You know the seasonings of the rune fae well." That pleased smile of his sent a bolt of delight straight through me.

I took another sip of mead, another bite of duck, then shrugged. "My father was rune fae. Even though he was a king, he still loved to cook. He loved to cook so much that he had a special section in the private chambers so that he could." I paused, realizing what I had just said. I hadn't spoken about my family to anyone for so long, and now it was slipping out. As the princess assisting in the Resistance, most did not expect me to speak of my family specifically. My purpose was to be an inspiration. And eventually my purpose ended. I was part of the old ways. The old always gave way to the new. But I had gone back to something older still. Memories of my family before the massacre. It felt like lifetimes ago.

"Your father was a king? The king of Theodas?" His eyebrow arched. He set his fork down, the silver utensil clattering against the plate. "Forgive me, but…why would King Houtan allow his daughter to wander so freely? And why would he not have provided aid when she thought her dragon was stolen?"

My whole body tightened, and my gaze dropped to the goblet. "No…my father was Servas the IV."

His eyes widened slightly at this. Silence fell over the table. "I'm sorry. I did not realize…" He shook his head. "Forgive my clumsiness…" A muscle jumped in his jaw. "I'm sorry. It was a grave tragedy, your Highness."

"Please…don't call me that," I said softly. "I'm not the princess any more. Most think I died in the resistance, but…"

He remained silent, allowing me the space I needed to choose my words.

I swallowed hard, staring at the mead in my goblet. The amber liquid caught the candlelight, shimmering like trapped sunlight. Part of me wanted to change the subject.

But something about Ramiel's quiet presence made me want to share this burden I'd carried alone.

"My parents offended a powerful fae," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "No one knew where she came from. She appeared at my naming ceremony on my fifteenth birthday, uninvited and furious."

Ramiel leaned forward, elbow resting on the tabletop.

"She cursed me to a painful death," I continued, my fingers tightening around the goblet's stem. "Said I would die because of a spindle on my sixteenth birthday and be lost in the void until the end of time. My parents tried everything to prevent it—burning every spinning wheel in the kingdom, researching counter-curses, creating new spells, forming rune patterns..."

It was hard not to see their faces in my mind's eye. Though the tears burned, I held them back. It was the first time I had told anyone this. Before, others had told the story in their own manner and I had simply agreed to it. Yet now the words slipped from my lips. "They gathered up all the spinning wheels and spindles and set them ablaze with curse binding fire. It was…it seemed perfect. But…there was something in the wood. Some spell that we missed. Maybe a poison. As the wood burned, this green mist entered the air. Practically everyone fell asleep within moments."

He studied me, his violet eyes fixed intently upon my face. "You did not fall asleep."

"A handful of us remained awake. We were immune or something. And…that's when we realized that something far worse was coming. Our enemies—they were at the gates. And they knew. It was all part of a plan."

I closed my eyes, trying to block out those memories. The horrible squelching, the dull thuds as they cleaved through the bodies of the sleeping and helpless. "Some fought back. Others of us—we tried to rescue who we could. But…"

I couldn't bring myself to say those final words. To tell him how each member of my family died. I didn't want to see those moments again.

The silence grew between us, and he let it sit.

I took another long drink from the mead, not tasting it at all. "I was one of the few who survived. And barely. I fled into the forest that night, and I just…I ran until I couldn't run any more. I started crying. I don't know how I got there, but I found myself on a hill at dawn. I was cold and scared, and… Zephyrus found me."

I looked up at him as I reached this point. He gave a small nod, suggesting he understood. I swallowed hard. "I was so scared at first, but somehow…he got through all of that. And he taught me to be a rider. He was my whole family. I was so useless that I didn't even know how to hunt, but…he helped me. And he protected me. The attack on the nation continued, and I was so lost in grief, I didn't think there was anything I could do.

"But then Huntao came to get me. He was one of my father's generals. I don't even know how he found me. But he asked me to join him in the resistance. So I did. And in the end, we won. He offered to restore me to the throne, and I…I believe he would have. But in those years, I saw the kind of leader he was. And I knew what I was."

"What were you?"

"A scared girl who had no experience in politics or diplomacy who turned out to be good at rescues and dragon riding but not really the finer points of ruling. I couldn't imagine marrying anyone, and serving as the icon of the resistance took its toll. Huntao proved himself wise and surprisingly kind for a general who was crowned king. And, of course, I had already scourged the bond mark. I couldn't be with anyone then."

Wait. Had I told him that before? The words had just slipped out. I halted.

He leaned back in his chair, one wrist draped over the wooden arm. "You scourged the bond mark?" He asked it quietly, not cruelly.

I nodded, staring down at the mead and the small ripples from tilting the goblet. Maybe it was for the best. The words tugged at my lips, eager to spill free. "My father was rune fae, but my mother was crimson fae. I found the crimson mate mark when I turned fourteen. It meant that somewhere—somewhere out in that grand world—my beloved existed and had also reached a critical point. If lore is true, then the bond would begin forming between us over the next decade until at last we met. And at first, I took great joy in that. Mate bonds are not common among crimson fae though apparently more common than among rune fae."

"If I may ask, why did you sever it when it had begun? You had already lost everything. Would you not desire the comfort and security of a mate?"

I pressed the tip of my tongue against my teeth, willing the tears back. "Because all I had left was Zephyrus and death and the resistance, and…I didn't think I would survive the fight. At that point, I thought the curse would find some other way to destroy me. And the lore masters said that if a bond was severed before it was fully formed, then my mate would have a chance to bond with someone else."

His brow furrowed, a soft yet knowing light in his eyes. "Fate would be rewritten? Your beloved would find someone else?"

"And he would be safe." I bit down on my tongue. "He wouldn't know I'd rejected the bond. All he would know is that something changed."

"And you never pursued romance outside of that? Rejecting the mate bond does not mean you cannot love or be loved," Ramiel countered.

"What man would be interested in me? Especially once he knew that I had a mate…that the mate bond had started to form its mark on my flesh to draw me to my mate and I scourged it? I know that must sound dreadful and cruel?—"

"No, I understand your choice." He tapped his finger against the pendant at his throat. His magic made the charm difficult to see but it was present nonetheless. "I did not cut my mate bond from my own flesh, but…I took other steps. I masked the bond and freed her. My reasons weren't so dissimilar from yours."

"Really?" I had never thought I would meet someone else who had followed such a similar path. Speaking of this so frankly and without judgment—I had never thought that would exist for me. It was as if an old burden was loosed from my shoulders.

His violet eyes softened. "Because I always knew I was coming to this point, Astraia. The curse hangs over me and keeps me from entering the Chasm and healing the leviathan. And that in turn means that the leviathan is going mad. Who knows what else has happened within those corridors?"

With a heavy sigh, he lifted the chalice to his lips. "I realize it may seem insane to you that the dragons and I remain here. I could live if I never used my runic Chasm magic again. But the Chasm must be protected. If it ruptures, then all the beasts of the Chasm starting with the leviathan will pour out into ours and the raw magic of the Chasm itself will undo the moorings of this realm."

"Then why are you here alone? Why not ask for aid?"

"Because I am all that is left. After the Battle of the Iron Fell, my great-great grandfather bound the duty and magic of the Sentinels to our bloodline rather than being something that could be passed to volunteers. Very few can stand to be so close to the Chasm." He set the goblet down, his gaze fixed on it. "I could have summoned my beloved to me, but I didn't want her to have this life. Especially not when I know where it must end. How it will always end. In darkness, pain, oblivion, and death."

"I haven't found it difficult." It hadn't been difficult at all. "Perhaps that curse has faded?" He did not respond, so I continued, more tentative. "At least I can help you."

He gave a small smile then. "I do not want to impose. You have your own life, and you have done so much."

"If Zephyrus is happy here, I would not want to separate him from his family. And…to be able to serve a particular purpose for a time…I feel like I could accept that." I took a long sip of the mead. The sweet flavors exploded over my tongue, but the nerves spasming through me made it difficult to enjoy. "Besides, you shouldn't underestimate me. I will get those knot curses off you, and then you will be able to use all of your magic and fix the Chasm. Simple."

"Elegantly simple."

"You don't believe I can."

His brow creased at this, and then his hands dropped to his lap. "I…I am not used to having hope, Astraia. And false hope is devastating. It is not that I don't trust you. I do. It is that I must be prepared to do what I must, no matter what I feel. That it very likely may require that I lay down my own life. The hope that you offer is one of the most beautiful things I have considered. But I have to be ready. And I do not want you to carry this burden or feel that it is your responsibility."

I bit the inside of my lip as I nodded. "I'm going to prove to you that it can be done. But you're right. You should do what you must to prepare yourself. But when this is over and you are healed and freed from this curse, I will tell you I told you so."

He smiled then, leaning forward on his elbow. "If you succeed, I will savor your victory as my own. I will admit freely that you were right and I was wrong."

"I'll hold you to that," I said, lifting my goblet in another toast.

He lifted his in acceptance of my toast, and we ate in silence at first. Then we spoke of little nothings as we ate, anecdotes about the small parts of life. The ordinary pieces that made life so precious.

After he refilled my chalice a third time, I set down my fork. A question had formed in my mind and refused to pass. "When I severed the bond and scourged myself, the witch told me she could try to see his face and describe him to me so that I could change my mind if I wanted. I—I didn't have the nerve to do that. Was it the same for you? Did you ever see her? Your mate, I mean. Before you masked the bond?"

His hand stilled halfway to his goblet. Something flickered in his eyes—pain, longing, or perhaps regret. "Not in person. But I saw her face a few times in a scrying mirror. She was—is the most beautiful woman to ever walk or fly. All pale embers and sunlight. And a smile that both wounds and delights me. The first time I saw her was in one of the sand mirrors that distorts time. I don't even know if she has lived the point that I saw, but…she was more than I could have ever hoped for. It was almost enough to make me reconsider until I really contemplated what a life here would mean for her. But there was comfort there too. Because after I saw her, I knew that in time, she would find happiness. Another would love her and do better by her than I ever could."

It was my time turn to shake my head. The sentiment was sweet but seemed misguided. "And how can you know that for certain? Life can be so cruel."

"Because…she will. She's strong and clever and tenacious." His gaze drifted to the bottle of mead, and he added more to his goblet before taking another long pull. "I pray for her. I mark runes for her. I debated at times going to speak with her, but that is far too dangerous. Caein says…"

The silence intensified between us. I waited, fingers still wrapped around the stem.

The tip of his tongue moistened his lips, then he shook his head. "Regardless, it is done. Do you think of the beloved you cut off?"

His gaze held mine fast, and though it was not a subject I had ever really opened up about, I could not help but speak. "Yes. Not as much now because it hurts. But…I comfort myself to think that he is happy somewhere. I hope he is. Then I realize there's so little I know."

"That would mean a great deal to him if he knew," he said quietly. "To know that someone loved you so much they were willing to deny themselves their own happiness to protect you. And there is sweetness in the bitterness of knowing that you long for him still."

"It does not feel sweet," I admitted. "Do you…do you struggle with your choice sometimes?"

"Every day. Every night." His hand fell back to his lap. And in that moment, there was only naked grief and sorrow in his eyes. "It became the hardest choice I ever made. Sometimes I have to remind myself why I made that choice to begin with. Remind myself of the importance of protecting her." He swallowed hard, his eyes soft and shining as if tears threatened. Though his voice softened, it did not falter. "And I suppose I would tell her what I would tell you. When all of this is said and done, I hope you have a good life. I hope you find peace and joy. That you make a home with someone who loves and cherishes you. Someone who sees who you are and realizes that they are blessed to be able to experience life with you. You may have severed your mate bond, but that does not mean you severed your ability to find happiness, love, peace, and joy. Nor does it mean you don't deserve to be loved."

His words struck me like a physical blow. I couldn't breathe for a moment, staring at him across the table as something inside my chest twisted. The raw sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it was too much. No one had spoken to me with such naked emotion since...I couldn't remember when.

My throat tightened. What could I possibly say in response? My own words failed me. "Ramiel," I started.

A muscle worked in his jaw as he gathered himself. "I apologize," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—" He stopped, then shook his head. "I need to be alone for a moment."

He rose from his chair, a slight tremor in his hands as he straightened his surcoat. "We'll speak more soon. There's something I want to discuss with you tomorrow. Something important."

I managed a nod, still unable to form words around the knot in my throat.

He hesitated at the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. For a breath, I thought he might turn back, might say something more. Instead, he drew a deep breath and continued on, leaving me alone in the candlelight.